


The Music of the Night

by lilium_elendir



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Alternate Universe, Christine!Gladio, Gladio in a corset, Gladnis, M/M, Phantom of the Opera AU, Phantom!Ignis, Zine: Parallel Love - Gladnis AU Zine
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-26
Updated: 2020-06-26
Packaged: 2021-03-03 22:53:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,977
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24933307
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lilium_elendir/pseuds/lilium_elendir
Summary: An accident thrusts novice opera singer Gladiolus into the leading role at the Grand Insomnian Opera House. After a stellar performance, Gladio's angel of music finally reveals himself.
Relationships: Gladiolus Amicitia/Ignis Scientia
Comments: 6
Kudos: 15





	The Music of the Night

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Parallel Love: A Gladnis AU charity zine.

The Music of the Night

When Gladio was a young boy, he travelled across Eos with his father, a famous musician. In that time, he developed a passion for music and a love of books borne from loneliness. The road and high society were no place for a young boy. Along the way he learned to play his father’s instruments, intent on following in his footsteps. But life seldom turns out as planned, and one day Gladio’s father fell ill. It was the scourge.

They returned to their home of Insomnia, but even the finest doctors couldn’t cure him, or even slow the effects. With no other family to speak of, and the orphanage having burned down years before, Gladio was left in the care of his father’s old friend, the maestro of the Grand Insomnian Opera House. But before his father died, Clarus told his son that an angel of music would always watch over him.

They’d been in Altissia when Clarus had gotten sick, a city filled with beautiful angelic statues. Gladio thought only that his father meant for him to remember him when he was well, unravaged by the scourge.

Despite the rumors that his new home was haunted by a phantom, it was easy for Gladio to settle under the tutelage of his father’s friend, but it was never the same. Gladio’s passion for music seemed to have died with his father. Not wanting to disappoint, he remained a diligent student. And, as he blossomed into a teenager, that was when his angel first came to him. A voice in the night, comforting him through the difficulties of mastering delicate instruments with increasingly large hands. A voice in his dreams, singing to him softly as his own youthful voice broke and was replaced with a rich baritone.

And so it was that while Gladio’s desire to master the art of stringed instruments waned, a love for singing emerged. Praised by the voice of his angel of music, never to be seen but only heard, Gladio was coached in the art of opera. Every evening he would seek out his angel in the bowels of the opera house and sing into the night. No longer alone, Gladio felt as happy as he’d been in a long time. When asked about his singing tutor, Gladio would only smile, a far off look in his eye, and explain that he was receiving private lessons. No one questioned him further.

Not long after his twentieth birthday, the opera house geared up for its largest performance to date, Maria and Draco. The opera house had recently come under new management, and, on the eve of opening night, disaster struck. 

A fire in the lead’s dressing room. Smoke inhalation and several burns would have him out of commission for some time. The workers were abuzz with rumors that the phantom was to blame; an increasing number of accidents had occurred since the new owner took over. Luckily the fire was easily contained, and the show would go on so long as a replacement could be found.

The maestro had put forth Gladio’s name, and the next night Gladio had shone in the role of Draco. He sang his heart out, hoping his angel was listening. For once standing proud on stage instead of being in the orchestra pit below it, Gladio’s voice soared for all to hear.

That night, after many rounds of congratulations, and a few drinks, Gladio retired to his dressing room. The room was heaped with vases of flowers; from the owner, from the maestro, from his new admirers. But there, on his dressing table, sat a single deep red gladiolus, a purple ribbon tied around the stem.

Gladio shrugged out of the black coattails he was wearing and hung the jacket up before approaching the desk, his steps tentative and curious. Of all the arrangements, it was this single flower that held his attention. It called to him like a siren’s song, and he lifted it and held it to his nose; his namesake.

“I wonder…” his voice trailed off in thought as he set the gladiolus back down, his fingertips lingering on the purple ribbon. Could it be from him, his angel? Gladio bit at his bottom lip in thought and undid the top buttons of his crisp white shirt, down to the bottom of his sternum. His fingers were stopped by the black underbust corset he wore over it. It was a beautiful piece with a pattern that resembled lace and shiny silver eyehooks. The ribbing accentuated his build, making his shoulders seem broader, and his waist slimmer.

Gladio sat on the padded bench at the dressing table and lifted his hands to his hair. He gazed into the mirror as he started to work out the little flowers that had been painstakingly woven into his thick locks. He barely got started when the lamps flickered. Gladio’s breath hitched, and he turned to look around the small room. Flickering lights were often the herald of his angel of music.

“Bravo, Gladiolus. You performed admirably this evening.”

Gladio stood and peered into the dark corners of the room, but as always, he couldn’t find the source of his angel’s voice. A beautiful Tenebraean accent, warm and rich like the sun, the disembodied voice made Gladio’s heart skip, the words of praise even more so.

“Thank you,” he murmured. “I couldn’t have done it without you. Please, angel, I want to meet you.” Gladio spun where he stood, searching in vain.

“Look closer at your reflection and you will find me.”

Gladio turned back to the mirror and kneeled up on the bench. There! There, behind his reflection, stood a masked man. He reached out as though the man were a mirage, gasping as his fingertips touched the surface of the mirror, yet the man didn’t disappear.

“I am your angel of music. Come to me, my angel of music.”

Mesmerized, Gladio slipped from the bench and around the side of the mirror. He found a crack of light, a secret door. He widened it to find a long stone hallway lit by torches. And in the center stood his angel, his hand outstretched. This was him, Gladio’s angel of music. The one his father had promised him.

Gladio’s steps were slow, but not timid, as he regarded the man. He was dressed in close fitting black trousers and knee-high boots with a wicked heel that equalized their heights. He stood with such poise and grace that Gladio’s lips parted, his honeyed eyes traveling upwards. A black leather vest over a charcoal grey shirt covered the man’s torso, and around his shoulders was a long black cape. The inside was lined with purple. The same purple of the ribbon around the gladiolus flower. The cape was topped with a stiff, dramatic collar that framed his angel’s face. Well, what Gladio could see of it. A mask covered the top portion of his face, from his upper lip to just past his hairline. It was in the shape of a skull with the jawbone missing, with fangs that extended down, but not far enough to touch his bottom lip.

Beautiful jade eyes stared back at Gladio through the mask. His feet carried him inexorably forward, pulled towards the man as though caught in an undertow. Gladio reached for the hand that was held out to him, his heart hammering, and his fingers closed around the soft black leather glove covering the man’s hand.

“Do you trust me?”

“Completely,” the word spilled from Gladio’s lips where he stood at a precipice, face to face with the voice in the dark that had kept him company for the last ten years.

“Then you may call me Ignis. Come.”

“Ignis…” Gladio breathed his name like a prayer to the Astrals as he followed Ignis down the corridor. Ignis kept looking back at him as he trailed behind, his verdant gaze intense. Gladio remained in quiet awe, moving quickly to keep up with the long legs of the man in front of him. They came to a dark stairwell and Ignis took a torch from a bracket on the wall. He led Gladio deeper beneath the opera house than he’d ever been before. Deeper than he thought fathomable.

The torch flickered, bathing Ignis in light and shadows, soft and then harsh. Gladio was drawn to him as surely as a lunar moth to a flame. The stairs finally ended, opening onto a large reservoir. Gladio realized they must be in Insomnia’s aqueducts, old and elaborate. At the edge of the water was a boat.

“Is that… is that an Altissian gondola?” Gladio asked in disbelief, coming to a stop though Ignis tried to tug him along.

“Indeed,” came the sharp reply. “Come.”

Another tug had Gladio moving again. Ignis held his hand as Gladio climbed down into the gondola. Gladio turned to help Ignis, fearing he might break an ankle in those heels, but Ignis was already stepping down with impeccable balance and grace. Gladio clutched at his corset, swallowing hard.

A wicked looking polearm lay along the inside of the boat and Ignis lifted it, sticking the butt into the water. Lanterns attached to the front of the gondola illuminated the tunnel that Ignis slowly poled them down. It was a marvel of architecture, carved in an age gone by. Twin statues of Titan holding the meteor aloft flanked the tunnel ahead. Gladio could see a large dimly lit chamber beyond.

He glanced back at Ignis, the man who’d taught him to sing over the last ten years. He couldn’t help but wonder at his dramatic outfit and the mask he wore. 

And then it occurred to him. Ignis, his angel of music, was also the notorious phantom of the opera! Gladio’s pulse thundered in his ears and for a moment he felt faint.

“Am I dreaming?” Gladio glanced behind him to Ignis once more, his warm amber eyes demanding an answer.

“No, Gladiolus. I’ve always been there, inside your mind. Now I’m here as well, your angel made flesh.” They passed under Titan’s fierce gaze and Gladio felt the weight of the meteor upon his shoulders. Gladio began to have doubts about following Ignis blindly, but then Ignis began to sing. Gladio closed his eyes and was comforted by the familiar tenor, the warmth of his voice. Gladio’s lips parted and he sang an accompaniment as they entered the grand chamber, their voices filling the large space and echoing off the far walls.

As their song came to a close, Ignis docked the gondola and stepped up onto the subterranean floor, holding out his hand to assist Gladio, who was looking around in wide-eyed wonder.

“What is this place?”

Every surface of the cavern was covered with articles related to music; instruments, music stands, a grand pipe organ, opera costumes. There was even a diorama of the grand theatre Gladio had just performed in. A perfect miniature of the crystal chandelier even hung from its ceiling.

“This is my home and my homage to music.” Long legs held Ignis, perfectly poised on the rocky surface, as he removed his cape with an elegant flourish. He moved to Gladio’s side. On the replicated stage was a figure that bore a striking resemblance to Gladio, and he held the small statue in his large hands. Ignis’ gloved fingertips stroked along Gladio’s forearm, removing the figurine from his hands and placing it back on the stage. “That’s why I’ve brought you here, Gladiolus, to complete my collection. I’ve been enchanted by your voice ever since I first heard it. Sad and forlorn, calling for the angel of music your father promised you.”

Gladio turned, warm amber eyes looking at Ignis from under dark thick lashes. His voice caught in his throat as Ignis’ fingers traced down his bearded jaw and thumbed across his lower lip. Gladio swallowed hard as leather fingertips passed over his Adam’s apple. Ignis stood close enough that Gladio could feel the warmth of his breath on his skin.

“And now I’m here, come to collect you, that you might help me make music. A symphony like no other…”

Ignis circled around Gladio, his hand touching his shoulders and never breaking contact between them. Candlelight flickered across Gladio’s skin from the multitude of candelabras and sconces that lit the cavern, but the atmosphere was still dark and sultry. Soft lips brushed against the back of Gladio’s ear, sending a warmth down his spine that spread through his stomach and down his thighs.

“Close your eyes, Gladiolus. Imagine the music we could create together.” Ignis’ hands slid from Gladio’s shoulders and down his arms, stopping to grip his hips, drawing Gladio back against him. Gladio placed his hands over Ignis’ to ground himself, a slight tremor in them which Ignis could feel despite the leather of his gloves.

“I…” Gladio couldn’t form a coherent thought, not when Ignis’ fingertips stepped across his lower abdomen to his hip bone and his other hand traced over the boning in his corset.

“Shh, let the music of the night wash over you, take over your senses…” Lips brushed through his hair as they moved to coo that accented voice in Gladio’s other ear. “Let the music fill your heart,” Ignis’ hand slipped into Gladio’s shirt, caressing across his chest, “let it set your spirit free.”

Gladio’s eyes fluttered open but stayed half-lidded. Ignis’ touch was intoxicating and left him craving more. He tried to turn in place, but Ignis’ hold on him tightened, a generous handful of bare pectoral muscle in one hand, and his thick thigh in the other.

“Trust me,” came Ignis’ breath on his ear. “Touch me,” he implored, guiding Gladio’s hand to his jaw. Gladio twisted then. They were so close their knees knocked together. Gladio’s fingertips traced the skin just below Ignis’ mask and he thought about trying to remove it. Not yet though, somehow he knew that would ruin the moment. This moment of sweet seduction as his fingers traced the sharp bow of Ignis’ upper lip and then down his clean-shaven jaw.

Just as Ignis had touched him, Gladio’s hands traveled over Ignis’ body; the breadth of his shoulders, the narrow expanse of his hips, the lithe muscles beneath his vest. His eyes followed his hands, but he looked up with a quiet gasp as Ignis’ hands also continued to work, loosening the laces of his corset. Gladio’s hands dropped to undo the eyehooks, but Ignis took hold of them and settled them on his slender hips instead.

“Allow me,” he said softly, taking hold of the top of Gladio’s corset and slowly unhooking it until it fell away. Before Ignis could protest, Gladio worked down the buttons of his vest and pushed it back over his shoulders. “That’s it, Gladiolus, give in to your desires,” Ignis encouraged in that voice like silk, soft and slippery, while he undid the few buttons left in Gladio’s dress shirt. Gladio fumbled with Ignis’ button down, but the phantom’s steady hands closed on his.

“There’s no rush, savor each sensation,” Ignis cooed. He brought the fingertips of his gloved hand to his lips and tugged it off with his teeth, letting it drop to the cavern floor. Ignis slipped his bare fingers inside Gladio’s shirt, his eyes never leaving Gladio’s, and felt over every ridge of muscle, pressed down into every valley. Gladio’s voice caught on his throat and his chest heaved for breath. Ignis’ hand only climbed higher, caressing the curves of his pecs and thumbing over perky flesh.

“Would you do the honors?” Ignis asked, voice deep and sultry, as he raised the fingertips of his still gloved hand to Gladio’s lips. Gladio longed to kiss him, despite the imposing mask, but he settled for wrapping his hands around the delicate bones in Ignis’ wrist, and slowly tugging the tip of each leather covered fingertip with his teeth until the glove was removed.

Both hands now bared, Ignis took Gladio’s between his own and led him back, deeper into the cavern.

Gladio could see a large bed looming over Ignis’ shoulder. It was ornately carved in the image of a bird of prey. The wings formed the sides of the rounded bed, its head and shoulders formed the headboard, and the mattress occupied the space of its back. A purple crushed velvet blanket covered it, the coeurl print only noticeable as they drew closer.

Ignis suddenly swung Gladio around and pressed him back, his calves catching the foot of the bed and tumbling back against the mattress. Ignis perched on the edge and removed his boots. Gladio watched in rapt fascination, scooting himself back. His breath was coming quick and uneven, the heat of anticipation growing hotter in his belly. Ignis climbed up onto the edge when done, and Gladio’s legs parted to make room for him.

Reaching above Gladio’s head, Ignis pulled a cord that dropped a black lace curtain around the bed, providing them with a privacy that wasn’t needed. Gladio took the opportunity to slide his hands over the taut skin of Ignis’ abdomen, guiding him down and over him. Ignis slid his fingers into the soft curls of Gladio’s dark hair, and his lips parted to sing out a quiet, sultry song.

“You alone can make my song take flight,” Ignis hovered so close over Gladio, their lips nearly touched. “Help me make the music of the night.” Gladio wrapped his arms around Ignis’ back and pulled him down completely. Their lips met and Gladio whimpered. They took it slow, kissing softly, before Gladio’s lips parted in invitation, and Ignis licked into his mouth. The sounds of their kissing filled the air, starting the first measures of their music of the night.


End file.
